


The Final Judgement

by CiaraK_1996



Category: Good Omens
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 11:18:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19317112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaraK_1996/pseuds/CiaraK_1996
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale had fooled Heaven and Hell once, but this time it was not going to be enough. This time one of them was going to burn.





	The Final Judgement

They had escaped once, and now the forces of heaven and hell were angrier than ever. This time they had planned together, rather than kidnapping their traitor and dragging them home kicking and screaming, they were both brought to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Crowley hissed at the sight of Gabriel and Beelzebub standing smugly, although Crowley did notice Gabriel give Aziraphale a mournful glance which made Crowley feel even more hatred towards the Angel.

Beelzebub stepped forward, “You tricked us the last time and it will not happen again.”

Demons and Angels seemed to agree with her words, which was never a good sign.

“Before you,” Beelzebub said raising her hands, “Is your judgement.”

Two pillars of fire erupted from the Earth. The left was bright red and angry; Hell Fire. The right, on the other hand, was pale blue and relentless; Holy Fire.

Gabriel stepped forward, looking directly at Crowley with disdain, “One of you must leap into the flames and face your sins,” He looked at Aziraphale, softly and desperately, “The other must then live with their shame and repent.”

Crowley understood then, the game had been made and he could choose either role, Gabriel’s glances were his emotions getting the better of him, Gabriel wanted Aziraphale to live and to forget, and everyone seemed to think that the only thing stopping Aziraphale from returning to Heaven was Crowley. However, there was a problem, suicide was a sin, but self-sacrifice was a sacred form of holy devotion something they thought Demons were incapable just as Angels are supposedly incapable of suicide. The punishment of eternity, however, would hurt Crowley more than it would hurt Aziraphale. Aziraphale admitted they were friends a few centuries ago, but Crowley loved Aziraphale, he had done wholeheartedly for thousands of years now. Aziraphale would heal quicker because he cared less, whereas Crowley knew that once it was over, he would be walking into the nearest Church to take a bath. All he had to decide was how he was going to die. Was he going to say goodbye? Confess his love? Or simply saunter up to the flames in confident silence and hope Aziraphale could forgive him?

Crowley had been so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed Aziraphale walking towards the hateful red flames. All thoughts of morality and consequences vanished. He could not remember if he screamed. He did not remember breaking free of Hastur’s grasp and running towards Aziraphale. He vaguely thought he heard Gabriel and Beelzebub shouting, but all he could think of was to stop his angel. Crowley rammed himself into Aziraphale’s side painfully, knocking him to the ground before pivoting and leaping into the brilliant blue flames.

Crowley stood there, his eyes shut tight, his face scrunched in a grimace, his body tense, waiting for the inevitable pain as the flames tore the flesh from his bones. One moment, then two, then too many. Finally, Crowley opened one eye. The flames were definitely blue and not red. Where was the pain? He looked at the horrified faces of the angels and demons before him, specifically Gabriel and Beelzebub. What was wrong? How could he be spared? One of them had to die today and it was not as if-

Panic. Had he somehow reached the flames before him? Crowley whipped round and released a breath of relief to find his angel was still on the ground, staring up at him with those pure blue eyes in muted shock.

That was when he saw it, just in the corner of his eye. His wing. He twirled and turned trying to get a better look. They were no longer black as pitch, yet nor were they white, however that might have been the flames. Slowly he stepped out of the spire of Holy Fire to get a better look. They were grey. Not dark grey like burned coal. Nor pale grey like a dove. A medium grey, such as a passing rain cloud, heavenly, but not wholly good either. He looked back to the faces of the spectating angels and demons. Gabriel’s mouth was open in shock, whereas Beelzebub looked angrier than ever.

_Nothing has changed_ , he realized, someone still had to die. He looked down at Aziraphale, he wanted to say something, but grey wings or not he could not bear the thought of his angel trying to take his place. Crowley gave him a sad smile and turned towards the red flames. If blue wouldn’t kill him then the red must … right?

He raised a hand to the swirling flames, watching it lick at his fingers. No pain. But they wanted blood. He looked up at Gabriel and Beelzebub, nothing had changed, they were not going allow both of them to live. His heart dropped and he fell to his knees. It wasn’t fair. He could not, would not live without Aziraphale, and yet some mocking higher power made it so neither the forces of Heaven nor Hell could kill him. He would not watch Aziraphale burn.

There was a hand on his shoulder.

“Crowley?” His Angel asked sceptically as if the being on his knees was no longer his best friend, “Are you alright?”

Crowley realised he was crying, “No …”

Aziraphale frowned slightly, “Your wings are grey.”

Crowley almost laughed, but it was broken by his pain, “I noticed.”

“And the fire hasn’t burned you.” Aziraphale noted, there was no relief in his voice.

Crowley’s voice broke as tears streamed down his face, “No … don’t please.”

Aziraphale gave him a shy smile, “It’s alright.”

“No,” Crowley pleaded, he would have thrown himself on a sword, into the deepest pits of hell, fed himself to the hungriest hellhound, even punched God in her righteous face just for her to kill him in Aziraphale’s place. She truly was a bitch for doing this to him. He no longer knew how to kill himself, if Holy Fire did nothing bathing in Holy Water was not likely to fare any better. He would have to watch his best friend, his only friend, his one true love, burn and have no way to follow him into oblivion.

“We can’t fight them,” Aziraphale said slowly, gently, “I may not be dying in your stead, but I can stop the pain.”

_What in Heaven’s name is he talking about?_

“When you’re all the way up there’s nowhere left to go but down.” Aziraphale smiled more fondly this time, “I just can’t live this way, Crowley.”

_What the actual- oh … Oh!_

Aziraphale held out his hand to Crowley and helped him to his feet, kissed his cheek ever so softly and stepped into the Hell Fire. Crowley didn’t let go; he held his hand as he watched his beloved angel fall … though not entirely. His snowy white wings darkened and rested on a medium grey, much like Crowley’s new feathers.

Self-sacrifice was an act of Holy Devotion after all, a way to redeem one’s self and save your soul in the act of saving another. Suicide, on the other hand, was a selfish sin and sure fine way to condemn one’s self.


End file.
